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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273650">(No) Strings Attached</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiixil_84/pseuds/chiixil_84'>chiixil_84</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>D&amp;D [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dungeons &amp; Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons &amp; Dragons - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eberron (Setting), Gen, Khorvaire (Eberron), Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other, just some session things, kind of in Eberron?, session notes, session reading, yet another campaign thing I'm posting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:55:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273650</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiixil_84/pseuds/chiixil_84</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Four characters come together to learn about the strange happenings on the Dragonwatch Isles, and they each have their own piece of the world they have a bone to pick; this is what they know, and how they react to it all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>D&amp;D [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838893</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. RAT - Blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is dedicated to my party that came together to allow me my first DM experience; I wouldn't be where I am today without them, and I appreciate the effort and time they spent with me doing this.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Captain Blue reflects on what she knows, and how little she truly cares for the War's influence; unfortunately, war never changes, and it destroys all it touches.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The War hadn’t been kind to you; at least the sea had been. </p><p>You drifted from port to destroyed port, offering naval support in any way your crew could – whether it was to soldiers or civilians, you tried not to discern what colors they were wearing while offering aid – but as the War entered its 90th decade of bloody wars, you could sense your crew becoming <em>exhausted</em>. There were months where you weren’t able to safely make port due to a battle raging off the coast of what had been a beautiful coastal city, or there simply wasn’t <em>anything left </em>for you to find there. </p><p>It hadn’t been the easiest existence, but your crew made due; you <em>had </em>to. </p><p>It was then you made the promise to leave Khorvaire and visit the other continents, maybe never to return at all; though they were relatively untouched by the bloodshed, the economies of the other continents had been severely impacted by the century-long war. There were months – nearly a year, at one point – when your crew didn’t make any effort to return to the sea, and they all made <em>a life </em>for themselves separate from the sea. </p><p>It almost made you wish you could tie down your roots like they could; however, your heart only listened to the call of the ocean, and it pulled at you like the tide. The longer you remained on land, it made you ache in ways you hadn’t known before. </p><p>But, you promised your crew you wouldn’t leave without them, and they promised they would follow you to the ends of the earth; you trusted them, even if it made your very bones ache while you waited. </p><p>While your crew drifted from place to place – on both the sea and land – stories of Khorvaire’s war drifted across the world like a breeze. You were superstitious when it came to the depths you sailed upon, for it would truly mean life or death in some circumstances, but never once did you think too deeply about the mainland’s folklore – not until you started hearing about the War’s end. </p><p>Some questioned whether the entire war was caused by a curse that had suddenly lifted, finally freeing the continent of Khorvaire from its century-long influence; others wondered if the entire War had been a ruse to prepare a new god to ascend, and there would come a new world order after their exaltation; still, there were whispers that some entity from a far-off realm was playing with the world, as if preparing the planet for something worse than what it’d already witnessed. </p><p>It really didn’t matter what the reasons were to you; a massacre that lasted a century just didn’t <em>stop</em> for no reason. </p><p>When your crew appeared at your doorstep not too long after, you were sure they would wish to return to the Aerenal coasts, or drift lazily along the Xen’drik tides, or visit any of the unnamed islands that splattered the sea between them, just like they had before; what you hadn’t been expecting was for them to ask you to return to Khorvaire, as if their lives on these other continents hadn’t existed. </p><p>It was a strange day, to say the least. </p><p>You followed your crew’s wishes, despite your own reservations, and your faithful ship made the return to Khorvaire’s shores. </p><p>On your first day back in port at Newthrone, two strangers approached you with the same question: “Are you heading to the Dragonreach Isles?” </p><p>You hadn’t thought about it, really, but it didn’t matter much to you. You weren’t opposed to earning a bit of gold after such a long journey. </p><p>Besides, there was an old man that owned a certain <em>Yarning</em> that owed you a few favors; him shuttling you and these odd adventurers across the short breadth of the sea would be more than fair to ask of the old man. </p><p><em> What could go wrong? </em>you asked yourself as you lead them to the old man’s shack. <em>It’s a simple transaction; nothing more. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Captain Blue was a dwarf barbarian seafarer played by one of my players; she was a peach, and always made combat interesting.</p><p>Hope y'all enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. QOZ - Ignis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Professor Ignis has many hobbies: teaching, learning, connecting the dots between the elitist underbelly and everything wrong in the world...</p><p>... what, was it something he said?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You have heard tales from the survivors of the War that would shake any other person to the core; you saw pictures of cities and towns razed down to their foundations, having even gone to a few of the sites yourself just to see the level of destruction laid upon the world. You taught hundreds of students during your time at the only safe university in all of Khorvaire, using their combined efforts to help propel your research (all in the name of essays!!), yet still, you feel like there’s more to the War that you’re somehow missing. </p><p>You <em>know </em>what the reasons are for why the War started 100 years ago; you just can’t discern the fantasy from reality the deeper into its gory mess you go, and it’s beginning to drive you insane. </p><p>You’d heard of ancient, scorned gods being the ones behind the havoc put upon the world, angry their blessings were forsaken in place of technological advancements; you’ve seen talk of an otherworldly entity playing with the planet’s ecosystem to see how it would recover from almost total devastation, like some detached experiment with this plane as its playground; you even watched as an elderly man screamed at the sky about some random farmer’s daughters being the cause of it, before immediately falling into an open pit in the ground and dying as quickly as he’d appeared. </p><p>But what <em>really </em>caused the world’s descent into the abyss boils down to one thing: the nobility and their lust for money and power. </p><p>Since the end of the War, you’d been spending most of your free time researching all of the different houses and their ties to specific portions of the war – namely, those that fueled the machine, and those that have come out on top despite the War’s devastation. </p><p>After one such night spent in the library, you made your way back home to find a young water genasi standing on your doorstep, looking quite literally like a fish out of water as they waited. As soon as they noticed you approaching, their nervousness lifted somewhat and they bounded over to you, offering a bundle of letters that you knew would take you <em>at least</em> a day to go through. </p><p>“Yes?” you questioned. “How may I help you?” </p><p>“The University said you could help us,” the young one said, almost breathless. “My people have been driven from our home, and we need someone to fight against the House of Em’s influence.” </p><p>The House of Em was a newly risen house of nobility, one that came around immediately after the War; you knew that much for certain, but couldn’t pinpoint where they’d come from or how they could have quickly amassed such wealth after such a devastating war. They hadn’t any ties to the old houses of nobility that you could notice, and didn’t claim to come from one, either. </p><p>Raising an eyebrow, you questioned further, “And why would you need a teacher’s assistance for that one? Aren’t there other organizations that would be better equipped at mediating between land ownership claims?” You knew it was more than that, but you had bigger fish to fry than whatever new nobility the House of Em was. </p><p>The genasi flashed you a smile, however, and said, “Because our island is the only safe place for dragons to lay their eggs, and they’ve returned since the War ended.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ignis was a fire genasi wizard that had the best schemes, and thoroughly a lovely player all around. He could see through my plans as a DM and I love how he twisted the campaign with his insane spellcasting.</p><p>Hope y'all enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. ZFU - Silver Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fey creatures are often attracted to interesting things; Silver Eyes wanted to BE the interesting thing people flocked to.</p><p>But, plans change.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You were in a no-name town doing your usual gig in an equally unimpressive tavern, with dozens of people in various states of drunkenness watching you perform; it’d been this way for some time since you hopped back into this plane of existence, but you weren’t really <em>complaining </em>about the venue. The thrill of a good performance invigorated you, and this world’s people – specifically that of Khorvaire’s denizens – were yearning for good entertainment. </p><p>Of course, you were more than willing to fill that role. Performing was your life; there were very few things you did without a flair of theatrics to it. Pair that skillset with a war, and you knew you would make it big. All you needed to do was make sure neither side realized you were working both of their pocketbooks, and you’d jump off from this with more gold than any of them could imagine. </p><p>You gave them entertainment, in exchange for information when gold wasn’t an option; you then turned around and sold that information for more gold, then... the cycle continued. As a Grinner, it made your life more exciting during the War; no matter where you were, you could play the Grinning Fool in a small crowd of soldiers, and end the night with three or four Golden Grin-members flocking to offer their hospitality to you. Now, you would be lucky to get <em>one </em>to approach you in a major city. </p><p>Either the War ended up killing too many of them, or it was too dangerous for you to keep playing that boring song. </p><p>Not knowing which option was the case, you started playing other things: songs from the feywilds you grew up with, stories of ancient worlds you’d slipped through, whispers about the very fabric of reality in a tongue no mortal on this plane would understand... your vast experiences gave you <em>plenty </em>to sing about, even if the tavern was too drunk to really soak in your knowledge. </p><p>This world certainly had interesting stories of their own, especially about the War they barely survived: there were a few stories about a celestial event that hit the horizon and drove everyone into a century-long insanity, which the world was only now waking up from; other tales whispered about an ancient god sleeping at the center of the world and this entire plane was simply its dreams (or nightmares, really); many more cried that the entirety of this planet was nothing more than an experiment gone horribly wrong, and its creators left its subjects when the War broke out. </p><p>Not like any of it mattered; what you cared about was your next moment, and thinking about the <em>what-if's </em>that didn’t include your rise to fame wasn’t worth your time. </p><p>However, at the end of the night, you always felt a little sad when you finished your last performance, the otherworldly light leaving the patrons’ eyes as the magic drained from the air; some part of you hoped they’d remember your performance through their hazes, or that some of them would even seek you out at your next debut. </p><p>But, nevertheless, a part of you knew some mortals simply wouldn’t remember you, and you had to be okay with that – even if that put a dent into your plans. </p><p>On your way back to your room, you knew you’d been visited by someone from the Court – the air was far too sweet, and it almost left an ache in your teeth to stay in the room. You stepped in tentatively, lighting some lamps the further in you walked, and you noticed a golden letter sitting on your bed. </p><p>Taking it, you opened it and read the message quickly before the letter itself disappeared. </p><p>
  <em> Do not forget the </em>
  <em>Dragonwatch </em>
  <em>Isles. Do not perform for the fourteenth. </em>
</p><p>You’d hoped you could keep putting it off; you wanted to enjoy the mainland for all it was worth. </p><p>Guess it was time to finally play the mediator like they wanted you to; it wasn’t wise to keep the Undying Court’s <em>request </em>unfulfilled any longer. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Silver Eyes was the satyr bard of the party and always managed to get into situations where it took plenty of charisma (and sometimes fists) to get him out of it. He had great energy at the table and rounded out the party nicely.</p><p>Hope y'all enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. FLX - Norn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A five-century-old elf has been many places -- more battlefields than anything, to be sure -- but he wanted a change of scenery.</p><p>To the Dragonwatch Isles for a vacation, it is!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>War doesn’t come as something new to you; you were born into it, have lived through countless battles, and managed to elude death far too many times to simply dismiss it as <em>luck</em>. You excel on the battlefield when you’re weaving between combatants and making quick work of any defenses an enemy might’ve had; perhaps, in another life, you would have turned your specific skillset into an attraction for sport rather than a deadly skill to be unleashed upon your enemies. </p><p>At the very least, it opens up your job availability during war- <em>and </em>peacetimes. </p><p>Despite being comfortable in times of such unrest, however, it certainly became <em>annoying </em>when these long-standing wars drag on for decades at a time; at best, you’d offer your keen abilities to whichever side upholds your values best, while at worst, you would simply offer those same skills at a <em>price </em>rather than by virtue alone. </p><p>No matter which side you end up on, you always manage to find ways to entertain yourself – and while there are many options you could partake in, <em> stories  </em> always seemed to grasp your attention in a way no other  <em> entertainment option </em> could. It was fun to pass through each little village and listen to their own reasons for the War, even if the next one was more outlandish (but no less interesting) than the one before it: some claimed the gods were punishing the world to remind the mortals of their humble beginnings, using the War as a way to condemn those that wrecked the planet to fuel their own greed; a few assumed that the fighting only started when a celestial event hit the horizon and drove everyone to a one hundred-year-long insanity, an event the world was only now beginning to wake up from; others believed there was no real point to the War, and it was just an excuse to wreak havoc on unsuspecting mortals by unknown entities that laid beyond the world’s understanding or control. </p><p>In any case, it never mattered to you why the world finally managed to end – or Hell, why it even <em>started </em>– the War; it gave you an excuse to travel the world as you pleased, to perform your skills in their optimal environment, and allowed you to play with the title <em>soldier </em>that gave you far more privileges than <em>traveler </em>might’ve. </p><p>However, the constant wandering was starting to wear you down. </p><p>It wasn’t exactly <em>horrible</em>; with less fighting, it meant you could see more of the world, but without a battle or two to break up the monotony of travel, it left you with far less time to relax than you would’ve wanted. </p><p>You didn’t really want to admit it, but you were starting to <em>miss </em>the useless War. </p><p>Sure, you received titles of fame and a severance payment that would carry you over the next fifty years comfortably; it just didn't feel like it was<em> enough </em>for you. You simply wanted to go somewhere nice and quiet, specifically to a place that hadn’t been affected by the War like every other little town had. (And, maybe to a place that hadn’t exactly been  <em> tamed </em> by civilization, either.) </p><p>That was when a thought hit you: <em>the </em><em>Dragonreach </em><em>Isles</em>. You knew it was only a day’s journey south from where you currently were, and, the last you heard, had a nice little resort on the foothills of an ancient dragon’s den; surely, there had to be something new to experience <em>there</em>. </p><p>They <em>had </em>to have their own little theories on the War’s legacy, and you wanted to find out they were. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Norn is an elf fighter that loved battle, but desperately needed a break; had he not met the other players on their way through the Isles, he would've been pulled into their shenanigans one way or another. He always played with such gusto and it was so fun having him around.</p><p>Hope y'all enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Blue's Dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Blue dreams, but the ocean isn't as kind to her now.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As a captain, you always put your crew first; every time you went out on the high seas together, each crewmember knowingly put their lives into your hands to protect and guide them over the roughest waves and darkest depths. You scoured every shoreline, memorized every movement of the ocean, and basked in every rise and fall of the sun as it lazily drifted over your head; you were made for the ocean, and knew nothing could take you away from it. It was startling how readily your crew put their faith in you; soon, your worst fear became the day you’d lose their trust due to a failure of your own making. So, you began building yourself up to be as strong as possible, even finding weapons and trinkets that only <em>amplified</em> your natural strength beyond normal control. You held absolute love for your crew, and would rather never be near the ocean again if it meant they would never be forced to suffer for your mistakes. </p><p>To be perfectly honest, this adventure you were on with these strangers – on this island full of talk about ‘witches’ and ‘great old ones’ and baby dragons and other odd land-creatures around every corner – was the first one you had had on your own without your loyal crew. It was nerve-wracking at first, but seeing as how these temporary companions were more than capable of holding their own, you felt more at ease around them. </p><p>A part of you somewhat wished they could come with you on your other adventures across the oceans, to live out the rest of your adventuring days doing whatever you damn well pleased; a different, more grounded version of you reminds you that not everyone was made for a life on the seas, and even if they were, not all of them made it back home again. </p><p>You, however, have been one of the few to be blessed by the ocean with its boon; you know that wherever you are in the world, you’ll always be safer by the water than on land. Though its depths wouldn’t always heed your call, there would always be a pull that starts deep in your gut and travels throughout your body that reminds you that you are <em>unable</em> to deny its call. Now was such an occasion where that was taking hold over you; as you delved deeper into the jungles of this island, you couldn’t help but feel your eyes pull back to the water’s edge, even if you couldn't necessarily see the water from your current position. Like the pull of the tides, you almost wanted to wander back down to the beach and spend the rest of your days with your feet in its gentle waters – but the memory of the black ooze and destruction filled your mind, and it sends a disgusting shock through your body. </p><p>You couldn’t exactly explain how the resort made their territory so clean – so perfect – but you knew it wasn’t natural by any means. (Another part of you – a deeper, more <em>ancient </em>voice – tells you the magicks pouring from the factory held the same intent as to whatever was keeping the beaches clean.) </p><p>As your mind drifts back to the factory and the things you saw on the short boat ride from the mainland to the island, the ancient feeling in your bones almost makes you drop to your knees, it’s so powerful; it feels like a hurricane, despite the weather around you being so <em>calm</em>. You feel a rocking sensation that used to lull you to sleep, but now, it only threatened to pull you under. </p><p>That’s when you realize you aren’t even in the jungle anymore, but on the <em>pier</em>. You don’t know how or when you got here, but you see the port’s buildings bathed in moonlight nonetheless. </p><p>You follow the pier up to the edge of the House of Em’s property; even though you know just beyond its property there is black ooze sitting all along the beach elsewhere, it looks better than any beach you'd ever been to. You can immediately sense the calming magicks press upon you, but it seems almost hazy – like it’s not as effective to you right now. Though you feel calm, there is something wrong about this entire dream, and it screams at you.</p><p>So, you flee. </p><p>As you do so, you begin to feel like you’ve been running in place for hours, each twist and turn of the jungle just the same as the last; however, as you take one more blind step further, you trip and fall down a steep hill. You tumble, head first, down what feels like a mountain; as you crash at the bottom, do a once-over. </p><p>Eventually, you end up on the beach, the same way you’d come just the other day; you can see the impact from the dragon turtles still deeply imprinted on the sands, even with the tides’ attempts at returning the shore to its once-pristine visage. You keep going until you see the deserts off to your left, an endless ocean to your right, and black beach straight out in front of you. </p><p>You can see beasts of all kinds here, stuck in the black ooze; now that the feeling from the resort has fully left your system, you feel <em>cold</em>. Even more than that, you sense the dead things’ eyes watching you as you pass their final resting places upon this diseased shore. You try to follow the path that you watched Cari take, your feet almost touching the blackened foam rushing towards you. You hear a heartbeat overwhelm you as the ooze does, and you begin to suffocate as it pulls you below the tides you once called home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is (roughly) what I wrote for my player, Blue, for my campaign. Just a little blurb.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ignis dreams, but he decides to change fate.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>First; you were a student, willingly soaking up every bit of information that you could. You excelled in making connections between odd pieces of information to a greater, more abstract idea, and you were praised for it. </p><p>Then; you delved head-first into teaching, giving students a leg-up in a war-torn world so they could protect themselves and recognize the dangers you readily saw. Many, if not all, of your students survived the War, even if they eventually went out onto the battlefields themselves to put your teachings to work; you hoped they understood the deeper meanings to all of your lessons, and that they wouldn’t fall prey to the predators leading the march on the War. </p><p>Finally; you ended up here. It was as if the powers that be were using you to play out a terrible joke with an even worse punchline, but you could see through it all. They could play with your life, but you knew (or, at least could guess to a nearly perfect degree) what cards they were going to play next. </p><p>Part of being a wizard; part of being <em>you</em>. </p><p>The House of Em held many magicks that you’d heard of or seen in practice before: tidal magicks to clear away the waste produced from the war (mostly used in the clean-up of natural disasters, not to make things look <em>scenic</em>); suppressive magicks to give a wide area-of-effect wave over the people inside it to curb certain emotional stimuli (generally used in hospitals and nursing homes, but seeing it at a <em>resort</em> was a new one); barrier magicks to provide a clear boundary between what was allowed in and what was to be kept away (which, granted, you now understand why Cari said a quiet prayer before walking beyond said-threshold). Knowing that they were beyond the “filthy rich” status, you weren’t surprised Wilhemina was willing to go through the hassle of collecting adepts of each to keep this façade of hers up. </p><p>What you were surprised to see, however, was the magick surrounding that little child. You couldn’t <em>see </em>anything wrong with her, but you knew from the way Captain Blue reacted to her – not to mention <em>Wilhemina’s </em>response to the little girl running out – that there was something more to her than anyone was willing to openly admit. </p><p>Using your ebony fly, you’d seen the mother and daughter reacting quite normally towards one another – save for the fact their speech made your chest become hollow, your head fills with the noise of buzzards and flies feasting, and your sight became overridden with visions of the War. There hadn’t been anything <em>overtly </em>damning to their interactions that you could see, but you knew there was something deeper you hadn’t quite figured out about the House of Em yet. </p><p>It almost made you too restless to sleep, in your mansion at the foot of the mountain, but somehow, you succeeded. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(AKA, my player decided to use a spell through this little trinket I gave him to show the true forms of Jelle and Wilhemina -- and they were demons, because, of course they were lol. He then decided to dimension door them. It was great. I won't write that out, but this was a Dream I Had As DM And It Failed. Hope you enjoy anyway?)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Silver Eyes dreams, but his dreams aren't even dreams and he ends up in the feywilds. Oh, boy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You were always a drifter; you never sat still for very long if you could help it. During the war as a Grinner, you stayed put because it was <em>fun</em>, not because you were really getting anything out of it. (Gold and recognition were great, sure; but, why do anything at all if you weren’t being entertained in the process? Your time was <em>worth something</em>, and there was nothing more precious to another being than <em>time</em>.) Since the War ended, whenever you were done with a place, you had a small ritual you would do to determine your next direction: with the strum of your lyre and a quick spin, wherever your feet hit the ground you’d walk in that direction until you couldn’t anymore. </p><p>It was effective, if not downright simple. </p><p>You did this so many times, across so many worlds, it was almost a habit to you now. Letting your feet carry you across long-forgotten countries and razed cities, down old dirt roads to farm towns that hadn’t even known a war had been going on, you saw things hardly many other creatures had. Though there were many perks to being a fey, one of the best was the fact that you had <em>ample</em> amounts of time. </p><p>And, though you were here on this strange island at the <em>request </em>of the Courts, you couldn’t complain; fixing problems was something you were good at, and you wouldn’t mind the cushion of being owed a favor or two from the Courts do solve these problems. </p><p>So, at the base of this mountain, you slept alongside three other adventurers. You knew you were safe here, so you allowed your mind to relax enough so that it, too, could wander. </p><p>Like many nights, you dreamed about your wandering across numerous realms: past adventures you still sang ballads of even centuries later, more recent journeys that brought you a sense of <em>peace</em>, and excitement about what the future would bring you. Each end of an adventure brought you to a series of doors – an eternal corridor that even someone like you couldn’t fully comprehend in its entirety – and you willfully stepped beyond each threshold, never turning your head to look back. All there was for you was <em>forward</em>. </p><p>But, tonight, as your feet passed yet another threshold between one dream and the next, you felt <em>different</em>. No longer were you finding yourself questioning where exactly <em>were</em><em> you</em>; you knew <em>exactly </em>where you were, and it sent a shock of panic through you like lightning as you realized it: the feywilds. </p><p>This wasn’t a normal feywilds, however: you could easily recognize the beach where the House of Em stood, its black shadow cast across the beach in which Willhemina laid her claim, and further beyond that, you could recognize the jetties and atolls of the port. </p><p>You took a tentative step forward, knowing the only way out was to do so. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>But like, this happened? And then he ended up seeing the aftermath of the last dream and it was glorious. Everything was on fire lol.</p><p>Hope you enjoy my pipe dream of DM-nightmare/dream sequences lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Norn dreams, and he's the only one that can give the others a clear understanding on what is happening down at the resort.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the war ended, you could feel the weight of your decisions becoming heavier with each passing day; though there were very few things you regretted, you certainly questioned whether the War had been worth the resources, effort, and time you put into it. These were things you knew you would never recover, and that realization gave you both a sense of peace and grief at the losses. </p><p>If you didn’t have another four hundred years under your belt, you might have felt cheated by the strings of fate; but, you knew better than to keep that line of thought when so many others had been born, lived, and died in the span of that long-lasting massacre. </p><p>Certainly, you counted yourself as one of the few privileged enough to have left the maw of the War with<em> so little </em>torn away from you. </p><p>You couldn’t count how many battles you’d been in – how many lives your tactical decisions cut short – how many times you pressed fate for an outcome that the universe was otherwise screaming couldn’t happen – and you knew you were more than just <em>lucky</em>. </p><p>Your accomplishments were not mere tricks; you earned every one of them, and you were proud of what you’d done in your life. </p><p>But, despite your pride, it made you so <em>tired</em> keeping up with it all; you just wanted a moment to breathe. </p><p>You remember the exact moment you decided on leaving everything behind to take an extended vacation, and relished in the sense of <em>determination </em>you felt; you would take however long you pleased, and the world would simply have to wait if it wanted you to return. </p><p>You spent the last month with hardly a care in the world, with everything you could’ve ever wanted being done for you almost before you could finish asking. Everything was well within your reach, and anything you requested had been done without question. </p><p>You often took long walks along the too-perfect beaches, visiting the docks and striking up conversations with the market’s vendors to pass the time. You could point out entire days you’d spent swapping stories with the other resort-goers, while most nights were spent looking up into the cloudless sky. There hadn’t been one day that passed without you attempting to talk with passersby. </p><p>Sometimes, you spent your days in the ocean, relaxing in and around its gentle waves in a way you hadn’t in <em>years</em>. Memories of spending early mornings fishing on the pier, lazy afternoons lying on the shore in the warm sunlight, and sunset-hours relaxing with the other guests around a bonfire were a constant for you here, and you found the longer you stayed, the less you wanted to leave. </p><p>A handful of moments occasionally come you like a flash of lightning – panic or a sense of clarity, you weren’t entirely sure – that snatched away all the <em>safer </em>feelings and replaced them with horror and nausea. You remember blankly watching as guests were attacked, dragged off the property, or simply stepped into the jungle on their own accord, before moving on to the rest of your day. </p><p>Those moments didn’t remain very long in the forefront of your mind before you met the adventurers; looking back, now, perhaps you should have done more. </p><p>You <em>could </em>have done more. </p><p>Now that you think about it, you truly wonder about the war; sure, you weren’t there when it started, but you were there for <em>its entirety</em>. Nothing easily made its way past you, but this was certainly something you’d spent many nights – in the war and outside of it – wondering about. </p><p>Why <em>did </em>the War start? Why did no country, people, kingdom, or faction claim it as their own design? </p><p>But that's when you realize: <em>no one</em> claimed the War for their own devices; it just <em>happened</em>, and people suffered for a century for it. That realization sends you into a panic, and you sit up in your bed with a start. You don’t recognize the room immediately, but it does fill you with a sense of comfort. You begin to wander through the corridors, watching as other guests left their rooms to wander out into the courtyard beneath the blackened remains of the House of Em.</p><p>You do not wish to get caught; so, you leave, making your way back up the mountain. As you go, fear digs into every bone in your body as you desperately claw at the dirt to climb, whispers echoing all around you as you are told just how you and your friends will die: slowly, painfully, and for the god of thresholds.</p><p>You wake up, your fingers covered in blackened earth; you hear shouting outside, and you rush to wake your companions. <em>You were too late.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Everything continued being on fire, and he ended up seeing a sacrificial ritual happen? SO THAT WAS FUN. He ended up waking up in time to just barely get his party together, so that was a great fight.</p><p>But anyway; pipe dreams, and all that.</p><p>Hope you enjoy the last bit of this.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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